


Whole Universes

by PhoenixDragon



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (2005)/Supernatural, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, No Spoilers, Semi-Explicit Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>But Dean was essentially a Companion, as well as quickly becoming…other things that never quite entered the Time Lord’s vocabulary. Maybe just listening wouldn’t hurt anything. It wasn’t like their conversation was privileged information, seeing as they were holding it in the middle of a very public area for humans.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole Universes

** Whole Universes (Snippet)**

  
[](http://a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1712/382062)  
[](http://a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/2205/522538)

He paused, picking up the sound of raised voices from the kitchen (well, less raised and more heated), Dean’s voice a quiet, rumbled hiss to Sam’s more grating punch. He didn’t know if he should really interfere. Brothers were brothers and interfering could get one in a whole universe of hurt.

But Dean was essentially a Companion, as well as quickly becoming…other things that never quite entered the Time Lord’s vocabulary. Maybe just _listening_ wouldn’t hurt anything. It wasn’t like their conversation was privileged information, seeing as they were holding it in the middle of a very public area for humans.

The Doctor quirked his lips and thumbed open a book to look busy – ah, 11th century Latin – and extended his senses to the kitchen. The basic feel of Dean was like the soft suppleness of leather, his taste green like grass in the high noon sun (or like moss from the north-side of a tree), his voice like a smooth, aged liquor.

“We got it taken care of,” Dean was saying, tone lined with liquid exasperation. “Look, I don’t know what the problem is, Sam. We’re getting the job done and a lot more besides.”

“So, it’s nothing like how it was with me and Ruby,” the youngest Winchester said in a flat, toneless voice.

Dean made an incredulous sound, the taste of his voice turning murky, ugly-dark as he replied.

“No. Number one, he’s not a demon persuading me to drink his blood so I can test out my groovy new evil powers. I mean, what the fuck?”

“You know I have to ask,” Sam replied quietly. “C’mon, Dean. You guys are getting tight sorta fast. You are spending a lot of time together – a lot more than I think you are telling me.”

“He’s got a _Time-Machine_ , Sam!” Dean broke in, frustrated.

“You are acting weird around him,” Sam continued patiently. “You act like he is _family_. And Time-Machine or not, in our eyes we’ve known him two months tops.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Dean asked in a frosty tone. “I shouldn’t have to justify my friendships to you, Sammy.”

“You’ve gotta admit it looks a little odd –”

“I don’t have to admit _shit_ , Samantha. You are seriously crossing a line here,” Dean rumbled.

There was silence for a moment. When Sam spoke again, his voice sounded slow and musical, like he was tasting something that had just occurred to him – rolling it over his tongue before spitting it out.

“Dean, is there…is there something going on between you two?”

“ _What_?” Dean sounded thrown.

The Doctor picked up another book, mouth suddenly dry as he pieced together what Sam was asking.

“Hear me out,” Sam said. “You know I have to ask. With Castiel…you were pretty intimate – but nothing on this almost _intuitive_ level. And such closeness can impair your judgment, you know that. Trusting Cas was a mistake. So was my trusting Ruby. You know I’ve gotta ask. You-you’re so different around him. And Bobby and I still don’t know if we can fully trust him.”

“Okay, spell it out for me,” Dean said tiredly. “You think –”

“Are you in a relationship with him?”

“He’s a _friend_ , Sam!”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” Sam retorted softly.

“You’re asking if I’m fucking him,” Dean said with a choked snarl. “And while that is none of your business – _no_.”

“Dean –”

“ _No_ , Sam! C’mon – he’s an _alien_! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Dean protested. “I can’t even…I’m done with this conversation. There is nothing going on with…there is just nothing like that _there_.”

The Doctor froze, the unread book dropping with a soft clap from nerveless fingers. He blinked once, twice and found himself moving quickly (quietly), heading for the door, for escape – smiling a rueful smile as the phrase about ‘listening through keyholes’ was recalled. Just desserts, really. Eavesdrop and you are bound to hear something you don’t wish to. He tried to not think of pressure building deep in his chest as pain. After all, it was all supposed to be in good fun. An experiment on both sides. It didn’t mean a thing, really.

He told himself that all the way to the TARDIS.

It was only when he entered the comforting confines of Her doors that he broke. He found himself gasping and shaking on the other side of Her door-panels, leaning against them as though his legs would give out otherwise.

It infuriated and unnerved him, this sudden burst of feeling and pain. He needed to get control of himself, distance himself from the persistence of hurt. He staggered away from the doors, forcing himself to walk. A quick couple of turns through the corridors should do the trick. Walking would help with thinking – and when he could think, he could again regain a hold of himself.

 

**~*~*~*~**

 

All Dean could think about as he approached the TARDIS was the back door of Bobby’s house. It confirmed what he dreaded: the Doctor had been there at some point – and had left again – but too distracted to close the door properly behind him. All he could hope was that it was general absent-mindedness and not something he overheard.

But with Winchester luck going for him, there was a good chance the Time Lord had caught some (if not all) of his conversation with Sam. He could kick himself for dismissing what they had. There was really no harm in Sam knowing, but the accusing tone had gotten to him and he had reacted instinctively. Now he was a liar as well as a traitor, denying what he and the Doctor were together – what they had. He could only hope the Doctor didn’t overhear their argument, but he’d know as soon as he entered the TARDIS, he was sure.

Everything looked and seemed normal when he stepped over Sexy’s threshold and he could feel every cell in his body collapse with relief. The lights were a little dimmer, but that could just have been the Machine snoozing – the atmosphere relaxed and a little sleepy.

The Doctor quirked his lips at him from the console platform, his posture easy, his smile bright. Dean thought he saw the smile waver for a second, but chalked it up to the lighting and his own mixed (angry) feelings. The Doctor looked concerned when he mounted the steps, eyes thoughtful, voice almost wincing when he asked how his conversation with Sam had gone.

“Hmph, must be all over my face,” Dean said with a sigh. “I...don’t wanna talk about him.”

“You okay?” the Time Lord asked softly.

“I’m fine. It’s just Sam being Sam,” Dean shrugged. “Why didn’t you stop to say ‘hi’?”

“Well – family conversation, wasn’t it?” The Doctor said with a small smile. “I know I wouldn’t have been welcome. Took a nose around some of Bobby’s books and then got bored. Came back to fix the servos. Wasn’t sure how long you’d be and the… _atmosphere_ …was kind of tense.”

“Yeah,” Dean grimaced, making a helpless motion with his fingers. “Sam being Sam.”

“I figured as much,” the Doctor said mildly, smile never dropping as he set the TARDIS in motion. “Better purposes served here.”

Dean sighed in contentment as they sailed the Vortex, enjoying the quiet power of the Old Girl’s engines beneath his feet, the overall air of contentment within the control room. Once or twice he felt a flicker of unease, but he’d glance at the Doctor and the feeling would abate, the air of relaxed calm around the Time Lord soothing in and of itself.

The Doctor let out a murmured sigh of sound, unraveling his bowtie so it dangled loose around his throat and chest, the top two buttons of his shirt undone in a manner of seconds.

“Doctor –” Dean started to say. He barely got half the word off of his tongue before the Doctor sealed his mouth over his own in a scorching kiss, one hand pressed firmly between his shoulder-blades, pulling him into the hungry caress of the Time Lord’s lips. The Doctor’s eyes burned with fire and lust, but his thoughts were hidden. He dropped his gaze when Dean looked at him directly, reaching for the zipper on the human’s jeans, long fingers hesitating for a split moment.

“Do you want me…do you want me to –” the Time Lord whispered.

“No – no, just touch me,” Dean breathed. “Please…missed you.”

The Doctor didn’t reply, his presence inviting and so much larger than life as he pressed an absent kiss to Dean’s neck. He withdrew faster than he normally would, even as his hand slipped inside Dean’s jeans, cool fingers wrapping firmly around his cock.

The hovering, not-quite-there pressure of the Time Lord’s hand at his back, the deft, smooth glide of his fingers around Dean’s dick – hell, his sheer _presence_ – was such an amazing turn on. Silky, dark strands of the Doctor’s hair lay scattered across his forehead and over his right eye – those eyes half-hooded and overly bright under the obscurity of his lashes. Doing this for Dean – _to_ Dean – something that seemed to thrill and please the alien.

“Doctor,” Dean said airlessly, grip tightening on the brass railing as pleasure throbbed hot and thick through his veins. “Speak to me. Tell me –”

The Doctor answered, but not in English – the language quick, melodic and elegant. The language of his Home. It was truly one of the hottest things Dean had ever heard. The Time Lord had discussed his love of his native tongue once after he had been caught murmuring it under his breath during a frantic (frankly hot) round of fucking. At Dean’s request he would occasionally use it as a mutual aphrodisiac.

Sometimes he would tell Dean what he had actually said afterwards (and that would often lead to even more fun), but there were times when the Time Lord would just smile mysteriously at him and not say anything at all. Right now, with the Doctor tucked halfway behind him, lips hovering near his ear as those fingers worked him to the edge, he knew (just from the low, sweet quality of his words), that the Doctor was mostly talking to himself. That shouldn’t have been hot at all – but oh god, it _definitely_ was.

Dean came faster than he would have liked, but from the way the Doctor purred he could only guess that this was the intention. The Time Lord muttered something quiet and delicious into the delicate curl of his ear as he licked Dean’s cum from his palm and all Dean could do was shiver with sensation and fumble to tuck himself away.

The Doctor had pulled out of range of a kiss, the hand between Dean’s shoulders already dropping away by the time the human had caught a breath. He reached out a hand to snag the Doctor’s sleeve, pull him into his arms, but the alien had already started away. It was too reminiscent of those bygone days when they had first discovered this special thing between them – when they had first started doing this together. The TARDIS let out a deep, desolate hum and Dean _knew_. The way the Doctor moved out of his reach, moves fluid and cool, eyes hidden, postured too relaxed – he knew.

“Doctor,” Dean croaked, mouth too dry for all the things he needed to say. “Let me…let me explain –”

“Explain what?” The Time Lord asked mildly, his gaze far too detached, feigning disinterest.

“It’s…It’s not –”

“Dean.” A tired sigh.

“No,” Dean said plaintively. “I didn’t mean it.”

The Doctor lasered a calm, unreadable look in his direction. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Dean said tightly.

“Rule One, Dean,” a blank, bland expression to match his tone.

“Doctor –”

“Besides…you never say what you don’t mean,” the Doctor said softly, turning to pad noiselessly down the steps to the nearest corridor.

“Where are you going?” Dean called to his turned back.

The Doctor paused, but didn’t turn around, his voice giving nothing away, no wiggle room to talk it through.

“To catch a small nap,” was the Time Lord’s eventual reply. “We have a few hours. Sexy will get us there when She gets us there.”

There was no suggestion that Dean should join him (as he usually did). There was no hint at all that the Doctor wanted anything from him – and seeing as his trousers didn’t leave much to the imagination, Dean knew he had definitely been hard while touching him. Knowing the Doctor, he would never say anything – but unable to reciprocate (now, later), what they had would slowly dwindle away until Dean lost him altogether.

He had to fix this. But as he watched the Doctor disappear down an open corridor, he knew that it wouldn’t be now. No matter how much he wanted it to be.

“Help me Old Girl,” Dean whispered to the TARDIS. “I didn’t mean it…”  


**TBC...**

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** This is one of the several fics I've got rolling for Dean and the Doctor, the difference with this one, is that there is an actual slash relationship here. I blame [](http://reapertownusa.livejournal.com/profile)[**reapertownusa**](http://reapertownusa.livejournal.com/) for planting the seed and [](http://lonewytch.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lonewytch.livejournal.com/)**lonewytch** for actively pushing and encouraging the growth of this monster. I said I would NOT Slash Them. And I should learn that 'Never' is considered a challenge by most of my friends. Lone - you'll likely recognise this, as it takes place in the middle of The Verse I have been actively _not_ working on. *Shifty eyes* Reaper, one day you will meet the Master. And you will love him, I'm sure - as he and Alistair must swap tips, lol! Hopefully everyone will enjoy - non-beta'd fic is unbeta'd. So please forgive all typos, errors, grammar fails and oh-noes in this snippet.  
>  **Disclaimer(s): _I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. Likewise Dean, Sam and Bobby belong to the awesome E. Kripke, S. Gamble and J. Carver - as well as the WB/CW. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!_**


End file.
